<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Hide Away by Eissel</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24627055">Hide Away</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eissel/pseuds/Eissel'>Eissel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Royai Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood &amp; Manga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Relationship, Drinking &amp; Talking, Drinking Games, F/M, Inspired by Music, Love Confessions, Mentions of Berthold Hawkeye's A+ Parenting, POV Alternating, Prompt Fic, Royai Week, Royai Week 2020, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around, Traditions, Underage Drinking, Young Love, Young Royai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 11:15:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24627055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eissel/pseuds/Eissel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At first it was the hollow beneath the stairs and her empty room. Now it’s darkened hallways and his too big apartment. </p>
<p>Some things never really change between the two of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Royai Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hide Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This prompt just would not work with me, but I finally managed to beat something out of it.</p>
<p>Royai Week Day 2: <i>Little Pistol</i> by <i>Mother Mother</i></p>
<p><b>I think it might be fear</b> // <b>Of the world and the way it makes you feel afraid</b></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>i. <em>Your</em></span>
  <em>
    <span> heart’s beating much faster than it should.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s cramped in this little space beneath the stairs. When they were both younger, it was less so, they even had the privilege of their knees not knocking together each time one of them adjusted their position. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Roy grew like a weed, and very quickly those days were long gone, not that it really mattered, they treasured the time together more than the comfort. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s going to be midnight soon.” He says, the fast-paced ticking of the grandfather clock in the next room corroborating his statement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It always goes so fast.” Riza mutters. “And the days always take so long to be over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well we </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>need to go to sleep, or we risk-” He stopped himself. They both knew the risks of what they were doing very well. “Anyways.” He coughed, changing the subject. “You said tomorrow night’s when the fireflies are supposed to come out right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you so interested by them anyways? I can understand why you were really excited the first time around...” He blushed lightly, hiding his face away slightly with his hair. She remembered that he hadn’t cut it this year, saying that he was interested to find out how he looked with long hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(That night he had confided in her that his father had longer hair, and he had wanted to emulate him a little) </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well obviously I was interested the first time, we don’t have fireflies up in Central. Wrong climate and all that.” He rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I asked about </span>
  <em>
    <span>now </span>
  </em>
  <span>though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well… I can’t answer that.” He said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well...” She dragged it out just as he did, a mocking lilt to her tone. “I think you know what that means.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a task driver.” He huffed, squirming free from his cramped position. “Shall I pour a glass for you too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That implies you’re going to ask me something that I can’t answer.” He smiled, and in the moonlight by the window, it looked almost unreal. If he was a little shorter maybe he could have almost looked the part of one of the fairy tale prices her mother used to tell her about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” He grinned cheekily, and left, leaving Riza alone with her thoughts. This tradition between them was fairly recent, only really happening in the last two years or so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you alright?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go away!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Look, I’m going to leave this food out for you, okay? Since I know your old man didn’t let you eat today. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>And</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> I’m gonna sit down here, and if you want, you can talk to me through the stairs.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been persistent that night, not leaving even as the clock chimed midnight. Then he’d done it again later that week when she’d locked herself up in the small closet, making inane conversation. Both nights he’d been the one to tuck her into bed after she’d finally worn herself out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually it became a weekly routine to, at least once each week, find themselves in the small closet embedded beneath and to the back of the stairs. The tradition had evolved when Roy had discovered a stash of alcohol in the kitchen, shoved so far back that he reasoned that her father didn’t even know it was there. So they’d developed a small game to pass the time, or rather, Roy had teased her about never drinking before until she’d snapped and boasted that she could hold her liquor better than him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(She couldn’t, obviously, being two years younger than him in addition to this being her first time with alcohol meant that she got drunker faster. At least he’d been responsible for the mess he made by giving her a hangover cure and by making breakfast that morning)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The game had developed out of that challenge, each time one of them asked a question and the other couldn’t answer, they’d have to sip a little wine from the stash. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Secretly, Riza liked the additional bit of danger and recklessness the game added to their nightly escapades. Hiding from her father was easy, he locked himself up in his study and barely bothered to check on either of them once Roy’s lessons for the day were over. The drinks would add a little risk to the whole idea, which enthralled her. Plus keeping a secret from her father made her a little happy, that there was a whole part of her that her father couldn’t ever take away made Riza feel secure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a quiet knock on the door, and Riza opened it up, helping Roy in. He had clearly already knocked back his drink, judging by one of the empty cups. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, my question that you will </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>not be able to answer.” He said confidently. He gestured her with the glass and grinned crookedly. “Do you, Riza Hawkeye-” He paused, eyes widening slightly, and he blushed darkly. The unusual sight paired with the unfinished question made her lean in closer, so she could hear the rest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roy let out a squeak, and made a motion like he was about to scramble back, but the fear of alerting Berthold Hawkeye coupled with the lack of space made him freeze instead of move. Riza took note of the way his dying blush drew more attention to his eyes and slightly parted lips, the way his shirt smelled of charcoal and apple, the way his chest heaved as he tried to get his breathing back under control. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...I didn’t think this through.” He whispered, averting his eyes. “...It’s embarrassing, the question I mean. You still want me to ask it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not that fragile.” Her hand snaked up to reach his unoccupied one. The callouses on his hand felt familiar, as they should, she had many of the same ones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” He said. “I know...” His heart was clearly beating fast too, judging by his pulse. He closed his eyes, and she wondered what memory of her father he was reliving now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The first time Roy had knocked on her door in the middle of the night, was also the first time Riza had to help him bandage a wound instead of the other way round.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A streak of skin on his left palm was an angry red, like he had either cut himself or burned himself. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What happened?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“During lessons today, I accidentally activated an array your father left about, it was an exothermic reaction, and I burned myself. I would have said he hadn’t noticed if he hadn’t berated me for the array getting smudged when I was scrambling away.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Won’t you ask me?” She prompted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Riza...” He began. “...Do you like me?” His blush had returned in full force, and Riza stayed silent. Withdrawing her hand from his, she picked up the cup of clear wine and drank it all in one go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...I do.” She whispered. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>ii. <em>Chase</em></span>
  <em>
    <span> the memory of you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There were a lot of “if-only’s” in their lives. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only Berthold Hawkeye was a decent father.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only Roy had never joined the military.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only Riza had never taught Roy flame alchemy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only Riza had never joined the military.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only they had never participated in the Ishvalan Civil War. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roy hugged her close, the only thing he could really do in the darkness of his far too spacious apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A prospective family man then?” The agent had asked as Roy signed the lease. He had smiled noncommittal and made a little humming noise. Clearly that sufficed as an answer because the agent had beamed and started going on and on about how the apartment was “perfectly optimized for a new family” whatever that meant.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As he walked inside, depositing his bag on the table, he had wanted to laugh, more out of disappointment and sadness than any real humor however.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One day we won’t have to dance around like this anymore.” He said, planting a kiss on her cheek. She didn’t say anything in reply, not that she needed to. His hands caught in her hair as he removed her clip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sir.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She said sternly, reacting as he tugged slightly too hard on a knot of hair. “We don’t have the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indulge me a little Riza?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve indulged you too much already.” She said, but didn’t move away. Roy carefully untangled his hand from her hair, still somehow visible in the darkness, and stepped away. “Thank you Sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to say it, but you’re welcome.” He huffed. “Propriety is a drag.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d rather have it than not. Besides, if you had it your way, every woman would come to work in a mini-skirt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve changed my mind on that policy actually.” He let a smirk play on his face despite her not being able to see it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh really?” Disbelief, disdain, was that also a small bit of hope in her voice? Coupled with laughter? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, actually. I believe that the new policy will only apply to one Riza Hawkeye.” The pause before she spoke meant that she was struggling not to laugh, Roy chalked it up as a win in his book. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“While better than your previous policy Sir, do not forget that as your bodyguard, I will almost always have a pistol trained on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Saying something like that should be treason.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve said worse.” They both had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Allow me to one up you.” Roy offered. “That way we’re still both going down together.” He took her hand, and brought it up to his lips to kiss it. His heart hammered away in his chest, and nervousness crept into his mind. She was right, this was dangerous and reckless, much more so than their young jaunts out of the dilapidated ancestral Hawkeye Manor, or even their hide away underneath and to the back of the stairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had eyes on her, and he on him. If anyone caught them they were both dead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Before I fight for Amestris, before I fight for the people-” he started, and she cut him off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s enough Sir.” She whispered. He continued, rolling over her concerns with a certain irreverent care. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I fight for you first.” He said, kissing her again, though this time it was a real kiss on the lips. They stayed like that, in the middle of his apartment the lights all turned off and the curtains drawn for what felt like an eternity. She pulled away first, ochre eyes glaring at him, then softening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re an idiot Roy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I’m your idiot, aren’t I?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her smile was answer enough. But even though she played it off as a joke, they both knew that it was more than that. It was the two of them against the world, always hiding, always fearful that they’d be discovered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the two of them alone and together, waiting for a day when they could stop being so scared. In a way, nothing had really changed from back when they were kids. Now it was the military instead of Berthold Hawkeye who would cause no end of trouble for them if they were discovered. It was his apartment instead of her house, but the central conflict always remained the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you.” She said, pulling her hair back into position, and walking to the door. In the morning, they would be back to their playing-acting of commander and subordinate, not allowed to act out anything more than their prescribed roles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too.” He said as she walked out, knowing that this encounter would join its place amongst all the rest as a treasured memory for the times when they couldn’t be together.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>